I Thought We Were Already Lost
by ASIG
Summary: While out in the jungle, Marguerite and Malone get a little turned around; Challenger's latest invention causes illness!!!


          Roxton sat alone in the treehouse, on (and it always seems to start this way) what was an uneventful afternoon. He was cleaning one of his rifles—polishing it up to look real nice. Marguerite and Malone had gone off together to look at some glyphs that Challenger, Veronica and Malone had discovered on the side of a mountain while out a few days earlier. Roxton wasn't particularly interested in glyphs, but he would usually tag along just to be with the always charming, Marguerite. Then Challenger announced something that Roxton could not miss.

          Challenger claimed to have developed a substance in his test tubes that would allow him to make caramel covered apples completely void of any fat, and very low in sugar. And yet, the old boy assured Roxton and the others that it tasted _exactly_ the same.

          From what Roxton saw, Marguerite may have been slightly interested in these as well, but all she said was, "Save some for me," as Malone yanked her into the elevator, eager to utilize her language skills.

          Veronica cheerfully came into the treehouse a few minutes later. She had been just outside working on her garden, which always seemed to make her happy and contented.

          "I smell something," she told Roxton, "is he done yet?"

          "He took the apples down a few minutes ago," Roxton reported, "but ever since then he's just been banging around down there."

          "I've never had caramel covered apples before," Veronica was saying, "but my parents used to talk to me about them. They assured me that it's a snack any little girl would love."

          Suddenly, they heard a jolt. Something hit the electric fence. Roxton stopped wiping his gun, and looked up at Veronica. After exchanging a look of slight concern with Roxton, Veronica ran over to the side of the treehouse and peered down at the fence.

          "Just a Raptor," Veronica informed Roxton, rolling her eyes, "when will they learn?"

          "And to think," Roxton mused, "they're supposed to be the brains of the jungle."

          The two of them broke into gales of laughter, as Challenger could be heard below in his lab, clattering around with pots, pans, and beakers, apparently concocting a healthy and tasty snack with a new formula all his own.

          Elsewhere in the jungle, Marguerite and Malone had reached their destination.

          "Here we are," Malone announced, gesturing toward a small group of markings written on a large slab of rock sitting toward the base of a hill.

          Marguerite glanced at the markings quickly, she didn't seem overly impressed. She looked over at Malone who was nearly jumping up and down with the giddiness of a little boy. Every little thing he found, Malone seemed to think it was the key to discovering the way off the plateau. This annoyed Marguerite. Shouldn't his optimism be fading by now?

          "Is this all?" she asked.

          "Well," Malone said, "it's no book, but it might be important."

          Marguerite rolled her eyes, "Do really think the way off the plateau is going to be scribbled on this little stone?"

          "Maybe we'll find an important clue," Malone said, being optimistic again.

          "Clue?" Marguerite questioned, starting to raise her voice and go off on one of her rants.

          Malone wouldn't let her. "Just read it," he kindly requested.

          Marguerite knelt down and took a closer look at the rock. She studied the glyphs, and seemed to be picking up their meaning. After a minute or two, she stood up again, standing face to face with Malone. A smirk slowly forming on her lips, and the end result left a look that almost said the words: "I told you so."

          "I can't believe you dragged me all the way out here for this," Marguerite said calmly, but clearly coming off calm took her some effort.

          "What did it say?" Malone asked blindly, not picking up on Marguerite's subtle hint of telling him his optimism was misplaced this time.

          Marguerite kneeled down to the stone again, and Malone did so as well. As she read, Malone studied the markings.

          Marguerite sighed, and then began. "We come here and sit; we come here and stand. The sun is very bright, but when it goes down we're all sad."

          Malone took a moment and thought hard about the potential significance the message might have, but after a few moments he stood up and shook his head, knowing that the message was not going to be helpful at all.

          "Somehow," Marguerite began, rubbing in her "victory," "I don't think we're any closer to finding a way off this plateau after reading that charming little poem."

          "I guess not," said Malone, not hiding his disappointment.

          His companion did not even notice this disappointment. "I don't know why you can't just copy these down in those journals of yours Malone," Marguerite grumbled, "save me the trouble of… No, I take that back, save _my feet_ the trouble of taking two days to walk up here only to find that we _still_ don't know how to get off the plateau."

          "I forgot my journals last time," Malone reminded her, "Besides, it's not your feet I'd be worried about…" Malone lightened up a little, as he toyed with his friend, "At least not yet."

          "What's that supposed to mean?" Marguerite snapped, not in the mood for games.

          "Well," Malone said slowly, rubbing in _his_ little victory and taking the focus off his not-so-helpful glyphs, "just think about when our boots start to wear out. It's already been over two years. How long do you think these things will hold up?"

          Marguerite glanced at Malone's boots, realizing that the soles were not so thick any more. Then she lifted up her right leg, and examined her own shoe. Her eyes widened.

          "I'm never leaving the treehouse again!" she exclaimed.

          "Oh, I wouldn't worry," Malone said casually, "I'm sure the Zanga can sell you some nice animal pelted boots—like Veronica's."

          "Yes," Marguerite spouted sarcastically, upset because Malone knew that animal fur made her break out in a rash, "I'm sure you're worth a good pair of boots."

          With that, she turned the other way, and started walking back toward the trail. Malone stood there, not expecting that remark. _She wouldn't…_ _Well_, he thought, _she was going to sell Veronica to the Zanga chief for a way home_. After a moments thought, Malone jogged to catch up to Marguerite.

          As he hovered behind her, Malone asked, "You were joking, right?"

          "I don't know, Malone," Marguerite taunted, not facing Malone because that would reveal the ridiculously large grin that was plastered to her face—she was having trouble containing a laugh too.

          "But…" Malone sputtered.

          Marguerite turned and smiled at him, "Well, if it's boots I need…"

          Malone rolled his eyes and ran up so that they were walking side by side.

          "And what are you walking so fast for?" he asked.

          "I would like to get home quickly," Marguerite told him, "I'm sick of being out here already."

          "Already," Malone exclaimed, "you were complaining from the second we stepped out of the treehouse!"

          "And apparently," Marguerite said playfully, "I had good reason to."

          Malone rolled his eyes again and shook his head, as the two continued to walk down the trail at a rapid pace.

          "Can you honestly blame me for wanting to investigate every clue?" Malone asked, "For everything we overlook we have to ask ourselves, is that the one little piece to the plateau's puzzle that can lead us straight home?"

          "You're right," Marguerite admitted, "and this obviously _isn't_ that one need-to-know bit of information."

          "Yes," Malone said, repeating the obvious, "but you don't have to run off so quickly, what if there's more glyphs somewhere else?"

          "I thought you guys checked for that the first time," Marguerite said plainly.

          "We did," Malone admitted, "but it never hurts to look again. What if we missed something?"

          This time, Marguerite rolled her eyes, "And what if we did? What else do you think these people are going to write: 'water is wet, and the stars shine at night'?"

          "That's not fair," Malone said, "their poem at least rhymed."

          "Malone," Marguerite, in her frustrations, took a huge sigh and went on, "stand and sad don't rhyme."

          "Oh," Malone said gloomily, seeing Marguerite to be correct.

          "Besides," Marguerite continued, "it is clear that whoever wrote that on the rock is from a very primitive culture—I doubt they've ever written anything useful."

          Malone did not say anything else. He just stared at her with this disgustingly boyish grin.

          "And what are we smiling about, Malone?" Marguerite asked.

          "Nothing," Malone said, knowing full well that that answer would certainly not satisfy Marguerite.

          "No," Marguerite insisted, "go on."

          "It's just that you," Malone said slowly.

          "It's just that I what?" Marguerite demanded.

          "You live for sarcasm," Malone explained, "it's not that you're really that upset all the time, you just like spouting off comebacks and such. Almost as though it's a game for you."

          "Speak for yourself," Marguerite said, "you're happy and mindlessly cheerful, and you remind me of a puppy dog!"

          "See what I mean," Malone laughed, knowing that this last remark kind of proved his point.

          "Oh, it's not so bad," Marguerite teased, "you have Veronica to go play your… _games_ with."

          "Put me and Veronica aside," Malone said, "what about you and Roxton?" He manipulated his voice to sound like a woman in one of those romantic dramas back home. He jumped ahead of her and began walking backwards so that he could face her. He clasped his hands together, and, being very melodramatic, looked up at the sky and finished his thought, "_A match made in heaven_." Then he continued walking beside her.

          "Roxton," Marguerite said excitedly, holding up a finger, with her eyes half closed, as she still could not help but blush a little, "Roxton," she repeated, more calm and proper in tone, "is a real gentleman. Something you would know nothing about."

          "I guess I'm just not old enough to have learned all the proper manners," Malone said.

          Marguerite shot him an evil stare, and the two exchanged a showdown type look. After a few seconds though, they both began to laugh lightly.

          "Really Malone," Marguerite told him, "you do need to be more careful about making sure you bring all the supplies you need with you. If you'd have had your journals, then we wouldn't have to be out here."

          "And miss all this fun?" Malone joked.

          "Fun?" Marguerite questioned.

          Malone shook his head and laughed, "You just don't quit, do you?"

          "I don't see you backing down," Marguerite pointed out.

          "Ah, ah, ah," Malone interrupted, "let me guess, that's what a real gentleman would do?"

          "You're beginning to know me too well, Mr. Malone," Marguerite said with a grin.

          Back at the treehouse, Challenger was finally ready. He came up the stairs from his lab, holding a tray with 6 caramel covered apples on it.

          "Finally done?" Roxton asked.

          "That's right," Challenger said, beaming with pride over his latest work.

          Roxton and Veronica cautiously eyed the apples. The caramel seemed thicker than Roxton remembered—more gloppy and gloopy. It also appeared to almost form lumps in parts where the caramel was spread thickly over the apple. Veronica had never seen caramel before, and wasn't sure how to approach it. She thought it would serve as a type of shell that basically gave the apple a different color, and obviously an altered taste. This looked more like a paste though, and she couldn't imagine actually eating it. Her initial distasteful reaction was also slightly influenced by Veronica noticing the faces Roxton was making.

          "Go ahead," Challenger urged, wearing an apron and the closet they had to oven mitts, "try one."

          Roxton gulped, and took an apple from the tray. Then Challenger swooped over and stuck his tray in Veronica's face. The caramel had a slight odor that was not reminiscent to anything Veronica had ever smelled. She naturally turned her head to the side, and let that "ew" look resonate from her face. However, she still grabbed an apple from the tray.

          "Oh come you two," Challenger said, "you act as though I'm feeding you poison."

          "Are you?" Veronica asked skeptically.

          "Don't be ridiculous," Challenger answered, "now why don't you give them a try."

          "Are they supposed to be so sticky," Veronica said.

          Roxton pulled his hand away from the apple and a trail of caramel followed, it stretched from the apple to where it was stuck on his hand, which he had moved about a foot away.

          "Not this sticky, as I recall," Roxton remarked, giving Challenger one of those, "should I really be eating this?" looks.

          "Well," Challenger defended himself, "to allow for the dietary benefits without sacrificing taste, the characteristics of the substance had to somewhat altered. Trust me, all your skepticism will end once you discover how great it tastes."

          Veronica leaned in close to Roxton and whispered, "We're eating a substance?"

          "Not just a substance," Roxton whispered softly, "but a _sticky_ substance."

          They both smiled and then sat up straight, becoming serious. Challenger was getting impatient and they knew they had to try his caramel covered apples.

          Roxton took a deep breath and slowly bit into the apple. After he had some in his mouth, he began to loosen up, chew more quickly, and became more relaxed. At the same time, Veronica closed her eyes and took a bite out of the apple. As the taste filled her mouth her eyes opened, and she too started chewing normally.

          "This isn't so bad," Roxton commented with his mouthful.

          Veronica swallowed, "Mm," she said, "I like it, it's kind of… sweet."

          Roxton too swallowed his mouthful, and spoke again, "And you're right George, it does taste just like real caramel."

          "I could do without the sticky fingers," Veronica commented, looking at her caramel covered hands.

          "See," Challenger said with a grin, "I told you you'd like it."

          Veronica and Roxton gobbled up their caramel covered apples quickly. As Challenger made his way back down to his lab, he tried an apple himself—keeping his gloves on—and Veronica and Roxton licked their fingers of the sticky residue Challenger's caramel left behind.

          Back on the trail, Marguerite and Malone's verbal sparring had just about ended. What either one of them failed to realize is that while they shot smart remarks back and forth at each other, neither of them was paying much attention as to where they were going. Marguerite stopped, Malone did as well. The trail had ended.

          "We didn't pass through this grove of trees on the way here," Marguerite noted.

          "Maybe this is the shortcut," Malone offered.

          "I don't think so," said Marguerite.

          "Well," Malone figured, "it's not so bad. We'll just have to retrace our steps back until we find the right trail."

          "Oh," Marguerite complained, "now I'll never get a chance to rest my poor feet."

          "It could be worse…" Malone started.

          "I know, I know," Marguerite finished, "my boots could be worn out. There's only one way this day could get any worse."

          As if on cue, two Raptors approached them from behind, coming out of nowhere from the jungle brush, they took up a position behind the explorers on the path. The sound of a snapped twig and a low sounding growl caused Malone and Marguerite to turn around.

          "Apparently so," Marguerite said as she drew her pistol and Malone took aim with his rifle.

          "It looks like there's one for each of us," Malone observed.

          "How can you sound so calm?" Marguerite asked him.

          "Well," Malone said casually, "it's no big deal, really. It's not like we've never encountered them before."

          "That may be," Marguerite responded, a little shakily, "but I would still call being attacked by a Raptor a big deal!"

          "They're just following their natural instinct," Malone explained, as the two waited for a good, clean shot, not wanting to miss.

          "Has anyone ever told you," Marguerite asked, "that you have a talent for explaining the pathetically obvious?"

          "I aim to please," Malone replied, shooting the Raptor in the neck, and watching it fall to the ground. Seconds later, Marguerite's pistol went off as well, and the other Raptor fell to the ground.

          "Great," Marguerite sarcastically took off, "problem number one is gone. Now for problem number two, we're lost."

          "We're not lost," Malone told her, "we're just turned around, that's all."

          "Yes, exactly," Marguerite agreed, "turned around. In other words: lost. Why is that so hard for men to say?"

          "Well, whatever you want to call it, we might as well start heading back now," Malone said. He began to walk back along the trail, but Marguerite did not budge. Malone came back toward her, giving her a look that prompted an explanation.

          "My feet are killing me," Marguerite whined, "Do we really have to keep walking?"

          "You were the one who wanted to get back to the treehouse in such a hurry," Malone reminded her.

          "I know…" Marguerite said.

          "Do I have to carry you?" Malone asked, as he interrupted Marguerite in mid-speech.

          Marguerite locked arms with him and the two began walking once again.

          "Oh," Marguerite said in that, _you're adorable _voice, "you really are very sweet, Malone."

          Malone smiled thoughtfully and nodded. He looked ahead into the sky, and peered at the sun, just starting to set in the afternoon sky.

          "We really should do this more often," Malone said.

          "Oh stop," Marguerite laughed, then she whispered in his ear, "What would Roxton say?"

          "You know what I'm getting at," Malone replied bashfully.

          The two stopped walking, and unlocked arms, putting a little distance between them as the conversation, for the first time this trip, turned serious.

          "I know," Marguerite said softly.

          "I can't explain it," Malone said, "we just don't seem to spend much time together."

          "I know what you mean," Marguerite said in a light, humoring fashion, "what's with that?"

          Malone returned her smile and shook his head, "Don't ask me."

          "Well," Marguerite reasoned as the two began walking along the path once more, "we're certainly getting that opportunity now… thanks to you."

          Malone gave her a quizzical look. After all, it was Challenger that suggested that the two of them return together to examine the glyphs.

          "This is, of course," Marguerite stipulated, "all your fault."

          Malone smiled and nodded, "Of course."

          At the treehouse all was still calm (which is usually no longer the case). Veronica had gone into her room to look at the picture of her parents, the apples reminding her of that conversation she had had with them once. As she came back out, she noticed Roxton with his rifle, at the rail of the treehouse, looking out into the jungle. At first she became alarmed, thinking that there might be trouble, but she soon realized that his demeanor was casual and relaxed, and she reasoned that he'd have called her if there were any trouble. After observing him for a while, she noticed that his attention was focused on a bird that was chirping happily in a nearby tree. She was somewhat taken aback when Roxton shot the bird.

          "Roxton," Veronica shouted across the room; she was quite appalled.

          "Oh, Veronica," Roxton said, "I didn't see you come in."

          "I can't believe you did that," Veronica told him, "that bird wasn't any threat to you."

          "Just a bit bored," Roxton told her, "I am a hunter after all."

          "And are you going to eat that bird?" Veronica demanded, not a fan of seeing life taken away.

          "Well, no," Roxton replied, "but… Think of it as… sport."

          "Sport?" Veronica verified.

          "That's right," Roxton reasoned, "but I don't even see why you're making such a big deal out of this. Life goes on, Veronica."

          "Not for him," Veronica shot back, referring to the bird.

          "Actually," Roxton corrected, "I think it was a she."

          "And how could you possibly know that?" Veronica asked, her arms crossed, and her face expecting an answer.

          Roxton got a look of perplexity about him, as he was unable to explain why he tended to assume that all of his prey was female. It brought some sort of respect to the creature's beauty—at least that was part of it.

          Fortunately for Roxton, he was saved by Challenger who came racing up from his lab, on a mad dash to the side of the treehouse. It was here where he vomited over the side.

          "I guess those caramel apples weren't quite so great for you," Roxton noted.

          Challenger was not pleased that his great invention made him nauseous. Passing by Veronica and Roxton, Challenger grumbled to himself.

          "A window," he said, "I've said it before, and I'll say it again, my lab needs a window…"

          "Those apples didn't make you sick, did they?" Roxton asked Veronica, eager for an excuse to change the subject.

          "No," Veronica replied, "in fact, I was thinking of having another one."

          "They were pretty good," Roxton agreed.

          "Yeah," Veronica said, "but now, I'm kind of glad I decided against it. It looks like there's something in that caramel replacement that's not so easy on our stomachs."

          "That may be so," Roxton agreed once more.

          "Now," Veronica announced, "back to the bird issue…"

          Roxton cringed, "I was hoping you'd forget about that."

          Veronica smiled wickedly, "I'll bet."

          "Okay," Roxton admitted, "the bottom line is, you're right. I shouldn't have shot the bird, and I'm sorry. Happy?"

          Veronica nodded, satisfied, and even somewhat impressed that Roxton stopped trying to defend himself and just admitted his fault.

          "I'm beginning to see why Marguerite finds you so attractive," Veronica said, her face plastered with a smile.

          This time, it was Roxton who was taken aback. A confused look formed on his face, and he was speechless.

          Veronica burst into laughter, picked up her knives, and began walking toward the elevator.

          "And where are you going?" Roxton asked.

          "I thought I'd go for a swim," Veronica replied. Instead of a verbal response, Roxton, who was still somewhat in shock about Veronica's last comment, just stared at her. "You didn't want to come," Veronica asked jokingly, "did you?"

          Again Roxton was speechless. His jaw dropped and he just stared off. He had never spoken with Veronica much, unless of course they were all in a life or death crisis. She had a playful personality, and a good sense of humor. He didn't know that, and the surprise of being exposed to it now was partly responsible for his catatonic reaction. He had always thought of his friend as just another fearless soldier, but he was wrong. And now, more than ever, he admired his friend for her prowess, grace, courage, and skill on the battlefield.

          The next morning, Marguerite awoke after being poked several times with a stick in the lower back. She reached up, grabbed the stick, snapping it, and was wide-awake; what she wanted to know was why.

          "Malone," she said, seeing him standing there, "what are you doing?"

          "Rise and shine," he said, laughing a little.

          "Rise and shine?" Marguerite questioned, "the sun's barely even up!"

          "I know," Malone said, "but if we get an early enough start we can still make it back to the treehouse today, just like we would have if we hadn't taken a detour through the 'scenic route.'"

          Marguerite groaned and rose to her feet. She stood in front of Malone and waived the stick in front of his face.

          "Was this really necessary?" she asked.

          "I didn't want to be attacked," Malone explained, "and it looks like I would have been if I hadn't used the stick."

          Marguerite gave him the most evil stare he had received all trip, and Malone quickly changed the subject.

          "There's some fruit and water in my pack over there," Malone said, gesturing toward where he had his blanket set up. "Why don't you get something to eat, and I'll finish cleaning up here."

          Marguerite said nothing. She dropped the stick and headed over to Malone's pack. This was not a bad deal, and she really could not complain too much about it.

          _I guess she's not a morning person_, Malone thought, and began to roll up Marguerite's blanket.

          As the two walked back to the treehouse that day, the conversation was not as intense. Neither of them said much aside from a few brief remarks about scenery or the weather or some other little tidbit Malone decided to bring up.

          "We should think about stopping for lunch soon," Malone said.

          "Let's not stop," Marguerite told him, "we can finish off the fruit and drink the water as we walk, but I want to get back to the treehouse before the sun sets."

          "Fair enough," Malone said.

          After several minutes of silent strolling through the jungle, a thought came into Malone's head, and he knew that he just had to share it with Marguerite.

          "You know," Malone started, "we've argued quite a bit this trip…"

          "You might call that an understatement," Marguerite laughed sarcastically but playful in nature.

          "…but," Malone continued, "I've noticed that when you argue with Roxton it's… I don't know, different somehow. You seem to be more intense, whereas with me, I could easily tell that you were having fun with it."

          "I think what you're noticing is passion," Marguerite told him, "I still enjoy it, but with Roxton we both express passion."

          "Does he know that?" Malone wondered aloud.

          "I would imagine so," Marguerite said, "for Roxton and I, it's a way of showing affection."

          "Arguing?" Malone affirmed, "That sounds like a funny way to show affection."

          "Well," Marguerite explained, "it's a delicate situation. We can't have grandiose declarations of love here because we can't afford to alienate each other. Think about it, isn't there a similar situation going on between you and Veronica."

          "Veronica and I don't argue much," Malone said.

          "But you haven't exactly said 'I love you' to her, either," Marguerite commented.

          "No…" Malone said, still pondering Marguerite's previous statement.

          "And do you?" Marguerite asked, "…love her I mean."

          "Well…" Malone said, "I definitely feel closest to her. We've never really talked about it, but…"

          "She's not even here Malone," Marguerite said, getting a bit annoyed, unappreciative of dawdling, "you can just say it."

          "I think I'd like to give it try," Malone admitted.

          "Then maybe next time you feel the need to go on one of these four day journeys you should take her with you instead," Marguerite told him.

          "But Veronica can't translate languages," Malone befuddled.

          Marguerite rolled her eyes, "That's not the bloody point Malone," she snapped, frustrated because they just weren't connecting.

          "Take it easy," Malone defended, "I got it now."

          For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. This wasn't another playful argument; both explorers were becoming legitimately frustrated with each other.

          Finally, Marguerite had something to say, "You're getting annoyed with me aren't you?"

          Malone did not respond.

          "All my complaining and arguing… it's getting on your nerves," Marguerite observed, "Roxton never gets annoyed."

          "Well," Malone said, "I'm not Roxton."         

          Marguerite smiled, seeing she was correct, "See," she pointed out, "there it is."

          "Can't you ever just…" Malone told her, "can't you ever just, I don't know, agree with what I'm saying? Sometimes the bugs irritate me too, and my feet get sore just like yours. I don't like going days without bathing much either, and I do I complain?"

          "Well," Marguerite said, "like you said, it's fun, and it helps me tolerate it better if I complain."

          "I know that's true for you," Malone said, "but do have to blame me for _everything_? Is it really my fault when you stub your toe on a rock sticking up in the dirt because I was taking up too much space on the path?"

          "You're right, I'm sorry," Marguerite said, quickly and conveniently finding something to agree with Malone on.

          Malone looked up at her, trying to remain serious, but in the end, he could not help but laugh at her joke.

          "That's not what I mean," Malone chuckled.

          "I know." Marguerite admitted, "You're not Roxton and I have been a bit rude at times… I suppose I didn't think much about it, I figured we were having a fun little excursion."

          Malone sighed, feeling kind of bad now, "I have had a fun trip," Malone said honestly, "I don't know, I guess I'm just a little tired, and disappointed that we didn't uncover anything."

          "Tired," Marguerite repeated, "Who's old now?"

          Malone laughed, "Oh, come on." Then he became a bit more serious, "Did I really just snap at you? Maybe I should be apologizing. I never knew I could be so…" He hesitated, searching for the right word.

          "…Grumpy?" Marguerite finished.

          Malone's smile returned, "That's not unfair," he remarked.

          "Well, well," Marguerite boasted, "I really do bring the best out in everyone."

          "Best?" Malone said, questioning the idea.

          "I'm being serious," Marguerite assured him, "I like what that did for you. You sounded so much more dignified, grown up."

          "A compliment?" Malone said, almost surprised.

          "See," Marguerite lectured him casually, "I can do it."

          "Thanks," Malone said, "it's just nice to hear one of those every once in a while."

          Marguerite rolled her eyes, but knew her friend was right.

          "Now," Malone said, "do we really have to put up with that smell? Why can't the animals do their business on the other side of the jungle?"

          "Nothings worse than dinosaur droppings," Marguerite muttered softly.

          Minutes later, Malone spoke again, "And why does it seem like all we ever do is walk? We walk around looking for a way off the plateau, we walk to the Zanga village and back, and we walk to the Inland Sea to get fresh water. Then Challenger needs to go out and test one of his inventions, and what do we do? We walk some more. Again, I ask why?"

          Malone looked at Marguerite, who could only shrug her shoulders, as Malone complained about everything he could think of before his companion had that chance.

          "What's the matter Marguerite?" Malone teased, "You seem to have become awfully quiet all of the sudden."

          "I can talk about other things," Marguerite protested.

          "Like what?" Malone challenged.

          "Like…" she hesitated, "…diamonds!"

          "I don't want to talk about diamonds," Malone said simply.

          "Which is exactly why I have avoided that particular topic of conversation."

          Malone nodded, taking that explanation. Then, for the first time in a while, he carefully examined their surrounds.

          "I guess time really does fly when you're having fun," Malone noted, "things starting to look familiar?"

          "Ooh," Marguerite said excitedly, "we're almost back to the treehouse—15 minutes!"

          "And we're both alive," Malone added.

          "Oh," Marguerite said, "I never came to close to killing you, Malone."

          "I didn't say that you did…" Malone mused, teasing Marguerite by implying that she might just be annoying enough to get him thinking.

          Marguerite rolled her eyes and sighed, since she could tell Malone was joking this time, "I suppose I deserved that," she said, "but I'm just thankful you didn't get us lost again."

          Malone smiled and nodded, almost expecting the remark.

          After making his rifle look beautiful, Roxton had decided to clean his pistols as well. He holstered the last one. _Perfect_, he thought to himself. Then his attention turned toward the elevator, which he heard being activated.

          "Veronica," Roxton observed as she stepped out of the elevator, "you don't look so good. I guess the swim wasn't as good as you thought it would be."

          "It was," Veronica said sounding as bad as she felt, "at first. Then I got sick and I threw up. Did it again on the way back to the treehouse."

          Roxton could not refrain from laughing—at least a little. "Challenger's caramel strikes again," he teased.

          Veronica was not amused as she slowly made her way toward him.

          "Here," Roxton said, helping her, "why don't you come lie down. Is there anything I can get you to make you feel better?"

          "Maybe a little water," Veronica replied.

          Roxton got her some water, and after a few minutes Veronica began to feel better.

          "I'm telling you, Roxton," she cautioned, "you had better watch out, that caramel stuff has got something in it."

          "So," Challenger said, overhearing the conversation, just coming up from his lab, "it got you too."

          "It sure did," Veronica said, "remind me not to let you cook anymore."

          Challenger was somewhat hurt, but he laughed it off. "I am sad to say that I think my experiment has turned out to be a failure."

          "Well," Roxton said encouragingly, "I haven't felt any ill effects."

          "That is curious," Challenger said, "nevertheless, I destroyed the rest of the batch. I think my formula needs a little work."

          "You can say that again," Veronica said, twisting in pain due to stomach cramps.

          "Are you alright?" Challenger asked, concerned.

          "I'll be fine in the morning," Veronica said.

          Just then, the elevator activated again, and the explorers were able to gather that Marguerite and Malone had returned from their journey.

          "Any caramel apples left for us?" Malone asked first thing.

          "Oh yes," Marguerite said, "I'm dying to try one."

          Roxton rose and came over to greet them, "I'm not sure you want to," he advised, "both Challenger and Veronica got pretty sick after eating those."

          "Yes," Challenger admitted, "I apparently got something wrong. There were leftovers, but I disposed of them."

          "Maybe I'm not so sad I was away," Marguerite said.

          "Speaking of which," Challenger asked, "how was the trip?"

          "The glyphs didn't pan out to anything important," Malone reported, "just some poetry."

          "Other than that though," Roxton wanted to know, "there weren't any problems?"

          "Well," Marguerite said, "we did run into a couple Raptors, but we were able handle it. I actually had a delightful time. Our friend Malone here is a wonderful conversationalist."

          "What did you talk about?" Veronica asked.

          "Yes, Marguerite," Roxton asked too, "I find that I can't help but wonder either. What did you talk about?"

          Marguerite thought about it, and realized most of it was fun in nature and completely irrelevant. "Boots," she said.

          "Boots," Roxton repeated, not understanding how a conversation about shoes could be so "delightful."

          "Boots," Malone confirmed as both he and Marguerite headed back to their respective rooms to unload the supplies they had taken with them.

          Roxton and Veronica exchanged a look of perplexity.

          "Let's not even ask," Veronica advised.

          "I don't know what we're going to do with those two," Roxton mused.

          "Well," Challenger announced, "I'm still a bit queasy, I think I'll just retire for the evening."

          "That's not a bad idea," Veronica said, getting up slowly.

          "Do you need me to help you to your room?" Roxton offered.

          "No," Veronica said. Then she slowly made her way to her room.

          Several minutes went by, and Roxton just stood there by himself. Then Marguerite came out of her room.

          "Just checked on Malone," she told Roxton, "he's asleep already."

          "I guess you wore him out," Roxton said. "So, what do you say," he offered, "how about a romantic walk through the jungle as the setting sun dwindles away?"

          "That sounds…" Marguerite said.

          Roxton quickly went through possible responses he might get from Marguerite in his head… _like a profoundly stupid idea, I'm tired enough from trip in the jungle! …perfect, except for the dinosaur bound to be waiting nearby to attack us!_

"…nice," Marguerite finished.

          Roxton smiled, pleased with the reaction he did get.

          So, like a gentleman, he escorted her to the elevator and the two began walking.

          "What's on your mind Marguerite?" Roxton asked.

          "I was just thinking," Marguerite told him, "how we don't enough of this."

          "What? Walk through the jungle together?" Roxton asked.

          "No," Marguerite laughed, "walk thorough the jungle with our arms around each other."

          Roxton smiled, "What better way to wrap up a beautiful day."

          The sun finally went down, and Marguerite and Roxton ended their walk and called it a night—sealing the event with a kiss before heading off to bed. They knew that the next day, danger would undoubtedly intrude on upon their time together like it usually did, and treehouse life would be back to normal.

**_The End_**


End file.
